Mark of the Fey
by Anser's Shadow
Summary: With his ethreal looks and inhuman powers, Harry Potter has never fit in. So somehow he isn't surprised to find out he's a faerie- and that he will have to use evey bit of Slytherin he has to keep the fey-hunting Wizarding World from finding out.
1. Not Normal

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the cover picture. If you see anything in this fic you think is familiar, the odds are it's not mine.

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Chapter One: Not Normal

Harry Potter had always known he was not normal. He was pretty sure everyone else had known too.

He knew he was not normal because he had noticed, early on in his life, that he could do things that no one else could. When people talked, he always somehow _knew_ what they were feeling. He was stronger and faster than everyone else his age. Even his senses- his hearing, his eyesight- seemed so much more...enhanced then everyone else's.

And strange things always seemed to happen to him, like when his relatives tried to force him into a really ugly sweater that his cousin Dudley refused to wear. The sweater kept getting smaller and smaller until eventually, it had shrunk to a size so small that even a doll would be hard pressed to fit in to. Or when, on one of his primary school's show-and-tell days, one of of the students brought his older brother's pet snake to class, and Harry could have sworn he heard it talk!

But no one else knew about those things, and they still thought that he was strange.

Even his appearance was so much different from the other boys his age. He was tall and slender, with unnaturally pale skin that clashed with his messy black hair. With his black-and-white coloring and bland, ill-fitting clothes, the things that people noticed most where his startling dark green eyes and his vivid red scar, which was curiously shaped like a lightning bolt.

He was always set apart from everyone else. Even those in school willing to overlook how strange and ethreal and _foreign_ he was were driven away quite physically by his cousin. It quickly became a rule- any and all contact with Harry would result in direct contact with Dudley's fist. His classmates soon shied away from Harry when he tried to make friends, and after a while, he stopped trying.

All of this created mixed views to the people of Private Drive. Some thought that there was no way the, admittedly unusual, but none the less quiet and obedient little boy could be the delinquent that his uncle made him out to be. Others found it quite easy to lay the blame for whatever things that Harry's bullying cousin did on someone they knew nothing about. Many just wanted to unravel the mysteries behind the enigma. They all, however, agreed on one thing.

Harry Potter was not normal.

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**Author's Note:** I wanted a chapter that would help describe Harry, even if most of it is just physical. Let me know how you think my story's shaping up (even if I've barely written anything yet) by leaving a review. Try to go easy on me, this is my first story.

Next chapter: Past Revealed: Petunia tells Harry the truth of his origins.


	2. Past Revealed

Chapter Two: Past Revealed

Harry Potter had always known he was not normal.

Maybe that was why he wasn't very surprised when, after acting more and more flustered around him for days, Aunt Petunia finally led him to the living room table as soon as she got Dudley and Uncle Vernon out of the house for an extended period of time.

"I need to tell you something."

Aunt Petunia had always confused Harry. On one hand, she never really seemed to care about him. She gave him endless chores, and made him wear Dudley's old clothes (which Dudley never took very well care of, not to mention the fact that he was at least twice Harry's size). She barely ever gave him enough food, and always seemed indifferent to him, unless his cousin or uncle was there, where she turned unnecessarily cruel. But despite all of that, she had put her foot down he was a baby, stoping his uncle from forcing him to live in a cupboard, and was, Harry suspected, the only thing stoping his uncle's mental abuse from becoming physical.

"It's about your parents," his aunt continued.

This caught his attention. His relatives had never really talked about his parents, only saying that they, Lily and James Potter, had died when he was one, and Harry had been left on their doorstep.

"They were different from-well, normal people. They had magic."

And so, at the tender age of eight, Harry was told of a whole other world hidden within his own. The Wizarding World. He learned about how his parents died- by the hand of the Lord Voldemort- and how he became the famous Boy-Who-Lived for vanquishing said Dark Lord. He was told of the circumstance of their death: how they were betrayed by their Secret Keeper, Sirius Black, who was his father's best friend. Harry was also taught about the wizarding system and Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts, which he would go to when he turned eleven, was explained to him as well, along with the views most people had on blood purity.

Then she told him something that wasn't common knowledge. In fact, it wasn't known by anyone except Aunt Petunia and now him.

"Your mother...She wasn't really the muggleborn that everyone thought she was. She was just the first Evans in a long time to not get a recessive gene."

"So my mom was actually a pureblood, and her relatives were squibs?" asked Harry guessed. He was shocked and more than a little overwhelmed, but the full implications of what he was learning hadn't really set in yet.

"Not exactly," Aunt Petunia hedged. "She wasn't from a line of witch and wizards, but faeries."

They heard a car come up the driveway of Number Four Private Drive, signaling that Dudley and Uncle Vernon were back. Aunt Petunia got up quickly, before they could see that she was actually being somewhat pleasant to her nephew.

"Oh, and I'd advise you to disregard anything you think you know about faeries. The Fey are nothing like you've ever heard of."

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**Authors Note: **Sorry for the short chapters- they should be getting longer soon. Hope you leave a review.

Next Chapter: Lineage Unveiled: Petunia tells Harry more about the Fey.


	3. Lineage Unveiled

Chapter Three: Lineage Unveiled

More than a week later, Harry still hadn't talked to his aunt about the things he had learned, which was quite unfortunate for him, considering all of the questions he had. They just hadn't had any time alone- Dudley and Uncle Vernon were always there.

But when Dudley and his friend Piers went alone with Uncle Vernon to a amusement to celebrate Dudley's birthday because Aunt Petunia told them she was too sick to go, Harry had hope that she was lying to talk to him. He was right.

As soon as Dudley and Uncle Vernon left, Aunt Petunia jumped out of bed and again led him to the living room table for a long, magic-related talk.

"First things first: you can't tell anyone about being a faerie."

"Why not?" Even though Harry had already guessed that he had to keep his heritage a secret, he was upset. All his life he had stuck out, had always been the weird kid. For him, learning about magic was like a second chance. He thought that he had finally found a place where he could fit in and be himself. But it was turning out not to be the case.

"While not strictly illegal, magical creatures and half-breeds (witch and wizards with magical creature blood in them) are generally frowned upon in society. They are outcasts. Most people go through their lives without many people knowing about them, but the press makes those who are well-known miserable."

Harry knew what she wasn't saying. As the famous Boy-Who-Lived, it would be much worse for him. The press would have a field day, and he- well, he wasn't sure he really want to know what would happen to him.

"Especially magical creatures who don't have the best past with witches and wizards, like faeries." Aunt Petunia added, and, as Harry would soon find out, greatly understated.

The way she explained it, the faeries' war against witch and wizards was rather like a Goblin Rebellion, but with the fey coming off much worse than goblins ever had.

"Compared to muggles, the wizarding world had always been fairly small. But compared to the fey, it was huge. Or, at least, it was after one infamous event that triggered the war.

"A thousand or so years ago, the faerie population had been thriving. Why wouldn't it be? It was well-populated, advanced and powerful."

But, as the story was told, passed down from one generation of Evans to the next, the wizards were jealous. They didn't do anything about it at first, as they were scared of the fey and their mysterious powers, which were relatively unknown to the wizards. So they left the faeries alone, pushing their fears to the back of their minds. But one wizard didn't forget. He, who Aunt Petunia described as a Lord Voldemort type of person, had always been wary of the fey, but when he saw how powerful they were, he knew he had to act. But despite how similar he was in the inside to Lord Voldemort, he took a much took a different approach than the current day Dark Lord.

"Instead of saying that the fey were deplorable because they were different from witch and wizards, and needed to be exterminated because of that, he simply stated that they were too dangerous to be allowed to live. The wizarding world would already be hard pressed to defeat the fey, and the faeries were only growing more powerful. His campaining payed off. The wizards, their paranoia slowly growing with each word he spoke, finally agreed to launch an attack on the fey.

"The faeries were completely blindsided. Yes, they knew that the wizardkind were troubled by the fey's power, but faeries had never suspected that the wizards would ambush them. The results of the attack were devastating for the fairies. Many of their people died, which the fey were unaccustomed to, given their long lifespans and immunity to most illnesses. The fey were angry. They had never done anything to warrant the wizards attacking them.

"So they fought back.

"Unfortunately, the faeries weren't prepared for a war in normal circumstances, much less after just just being dealt massive blow to their people. Their population was substantially smaller then it had been before, and everyone was mourning their losses. Not exactly the best time to fight a war, even if the faeries had plenty of incentive to win. The wizarding world, however, was prepared. It had plenty of time to get ready for a war with the fey.

"So the witch and wizards got what they wanted. They won the war and the fey were wiped out. Or at least they thought they were. In reality, the faeries had, once it had become clear that they would not win the war, created a contingency plan to be able to give help even after they were gone-"

"But why would they _want_ to help everyone else, when their entire race was in the middle of being completely annihilated because of the Wizarding Wold's petty jealousy?" Harry interrupted.

"The fey knew that the world would one day need them," Aunt Petunia answered gravely. "And they knew that when the world did, it would not be the people that killed them who needed their help, but innocents. Make a lesson out of this. They did not let their feelings of anger and revenge rule them, and neither should you."

Harry was not sure, but he thought the words sounded rather omnious. Before he could comment, however, his aunt continued the story as if there had never been an interruption in the first place, leaving Harry a bit lost:

"But what could they do? They could not beat the wizards, and they knew that the wizarding world would not rest until all of the fey were dead. So they used a ancient ritual that would allow a fairy to be born when the world was in need. But, for it to work, the ritual needed a great sacrifice.

"The fey allowed all but one of them-our ancestor- to die by the hands of the wizards. The single fairy that was not killed had his magic taken away so he could blend in as a muggle.

"Lily was born on Voldemort's first rise to power, and worked to defeat Voldemort with a association called the Order of the Phoenix, which was led by the headmaster of Hogwarts, though she never completely trusted him. Apparently, while his heart's in the right place, he's a right stubborn meddler, and needs his ego deflated. Or at least that's what Lily told me. Anyways," Aunt Petunia said, getting back on topic. "You were born to defeat Voldemort, as told in a prophecy, which is why I am telling you all of this now. So you can be prepared."

"But I thought that I already defeated him," Harry said, even more confused than before.

"Not quite," Aunt Petunia corrected. "He will come back eventually, and when he does, you will have to get rid him permanently."

"...Oh."

**Authors Note:** Sorry if your confused from the description about the war between the faeries and wizards- but just imagine how Harry feels.

Next Chapter: Mark of the Fey: Petunia answers some of Harry's questions about the fey, and tells him the truth about his scar.


	4. Mark of the Fey

Chapter Four: Mark of the Fey

After telling Harry the prophecy, Aunt Petunia took pity on him and allowed him a few minutes to process the information and get his head in order, before asking him if he had any questions.

Harry still had a ton of questions, mostly about his destiny to defeat Lord Voldemort and how the different aspects of the wizarding world worked, but decided that first he had to find out what being a fairy entailed. After all, it would be three more years before he even stepped foot into the wizarding world. He wouldn't have to worry about the other stuff for a while. At least, that's what he told himself to keep his head from bursting. He knew that he would probably plan everything out long before then. Harry was a firm believer in thinking ahead. Or at least thinking before acting.

Remembering what his aunt had told him about the housing system in Hogwarts, Harry sighed mentally. He knew that he probably wouldn't get into the same house as his parents, as there was no way he would be sorted into Gryffindor. Aunt Petunia had explained that people were sorted by personality traits: brave and impulsive for Gryffindor, clever and studious for Ravenclaw, loyal and hardworking for Hufflepuff, and cunning and ambitious for Slytherin. She said that he would most likely be sorted into Ravenclaw or Slytherin.

He forced his mind back to the topic at hand.

"What can you tell me abut being a fairy?" Harry asked inquisitively.

"Not very much much, I'm afraid. Remember, I'm not an actual fairy. I only know what your mother told me. Most things you'll have to find out yourself," Aunt Petunia told a disappointed Harry.

"There is, however, one thing she did warn me about." She added rather ominously. "One way that fey magic manifests is physically-"

"Which is I look differently from everyone else." Harry interrupted as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I meant. All fey not only have enhanced features and senses, a affinity for wandless magic, and the occasional extra power like empathy or telepathy, but a mark, unique to each person, and always having their own special meaning. In your case, your mark is your scar."

"But I got my scar from Voldemort," Harry protested quickly.

"Thats what the wizarding world thinks. That doesn't necessarily make it true." Aunt Petunia responded.

"I know that my parents went into hiding right after I were born, so no one would see if I had my scar before Voldemort tried to kill me," Harry rationalized. "But what about while I was born. Surely the doctors- sorry, medi-wizards- would notice that I had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on my head for no apparent reason."

"They would," Aunt Petunia agreed. "If the scar had been there when you were first born."

Harry waited in a confused silence for his aunt to explain herself.

"I told you that the ritual needed a sacrifice to work. The sacrifice the fairies made in the war was just the start. For the child to actually turn into a full fairy, it required another sacrifice. In the case of you becoming one of the fey, your mother was that sacrifice, just like my mother was for Lily."

Harry thought that he understood why Aunt Petunia always seemed to dislike magic and anything out of the ordinary now. How could she not, when magic had took her mother and sister away from her?

"So in a way, the wizarding world is right, you did get the scar because of Voldemort; just not from him." Harry's aunt continued, oblivious to his sudden revelation.

"Okay," Harry changed the topic slightly. "So what does my mark mean?"

"That's another thing you'll have to figure out for yourself, though if I were to guess, I would probably say that it stands for something like protection or sacrifice. After all, Lily died, not just so you could become a fairy, but so you that would live, and not be killed by Voldemort." Aunt Petunia answered.

"Or," She added. "It could have something to do with your destiny to defeat Voldemort."

"But how am I supposed to defeat him?" Harry demanded suddenly. To him, there seemed to be no way he would be able to beat the most powerful Dark Lord of the century.

His aunt sighed. She had no real advice to give him, other than, "Just work on your powers. Remember, you have something he doesn't: fairy blood. And something to live for."

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**Authors Note:** Sorry, I couldn't help but use the line from the Harry Potter movie, even if its not actually Harry who's saying it in this story. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, good. It makes my story look better.

Anyways, I hope you leave a review.

Next Chapter: A Talk with a Teacher: Three years later, Harry finally comes in contact with the wizarding world when he gets a visit from a Hogwarts Professor.


	5. A Talk with a Teacher

Chapter Five: A Talk with a Teacher

Three years had passed since Harry had been told about magic. Not much had changed. Sure, Harry had grown older, and with it, his powers and connection to the fey, even if he was the last one left. And ever since his aunt had told him about magic, things around the house had gotten slightly better: he had much less chores then before (even though it was still more than the average child did), and had well-fitting, if second hand, clothes. But he was still living basically the same life he had since he was baby.

Today, however, all that would change. His relatives had just gotten over his latest mishap with accidental magic (learning about being a wizard hadn't stopped it from happening, even if it did happen less often after Harry had gotten some degree of control over it), though his aunt did later speak to him privately about it, telling him about about parseltongue, the ability to speak to snakes, which she suspected he somehow got from Voldemort. The she warned him to, like most things, not let anyone know about it. Apparently, most people in the wizarding world were very superstitious and prejudice about it, and thought that being parselmouth was a sign of a dark wizard. Harry hadn't really been surprised about how the wizarding world viewed it, considering how they had reacted to the fey.

His occasional bouts of accidental magic were often the reason for him learning new skills. Like when had been running away from Dudley and his gang (even if Harry knew he could easily defend himself against his cousin, or even get revenge on him, he usually shied away from conflicts with the bully because fighting could give away his powers. So Harry often just ran away from his cousin), and wishing that he could just get away from them all, when suddenly, he was on top of the the school roof, and had no idea how he had gotten there.

Well, that wasn't necessarily true. He knew from Aunt Petunia that the wizarding world had something called apparition that more or less fit what he had done, though she described it as much more uncomfortable and loud then what happened to him. Harry wondered if was the fact that he was a fairy that made what he had done so different from normal apparition, or if was just different because it was accidental magic. Either way, Harry had been determined to harness the new power. So, during the days Harry had been locked in his room by his uncle as punishment for getting in trouble, which Aunt Petunia did nothing to stop, as she was rather angry and disappointed that he had been caught ("If you can't hide things like this from muggles, how are you supposed to hide them from wizards?" Harry had wisely not pointed out that she herself was a muggle), he learned his own form on apparition, which he called flashing.

~~~MotF~~~

But today, Harry would be getting his Hogwarts letter. Aunt Petunia had already lured his cousin and uncle out of the house under some sort of false presence (she had done it so many times over the years that Harry had long lost track of which excuse she was currently using), so that whichever Hogwarts professor that came to tell him about Hogwarts and help him get his school supplies would do so, unbothered and unhindered by his uncle.

Someone knocked on the door. Aunt Petunia went to answer it, and let in a middle-aged women with a stern face and black hair tied into a strict bun, wearing dark green robes- apparently a common choice of clothing in the wizarding world.

"Mr. Potter," She said neutrally when she saw him, her expression opaque, though Harry could sense some surprise.

She handed him what he knew was his Hogwarts letter.

"I am Professor McGonagall; I teach transfiguration at Hogwarts. I assume you've heard of it?" The professor threw a distrustful look at Harry's aunt, which surprised him. Professor McGonagall did not seem the type to hate muggles for no reason, and he didn't think that she and Aunt Petunia had ever meet before.

"Yes, I have," He replied before asking cautiously, "Do you and my aunt know each other?"

"Only by reputation," The professor answered disdainfully, and adopted a slight look of surprise. "So she did tell you of Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded affirmative, relaxing a little as he heard her answer. It made sense. Aunt Petunia had told him that most of the time that Lily had been in Hogwarts, they had been fighting. Or rather, his aunt had been angry and jealous of his mother, and Lily had been at lost of how to stop it. Harry couldn't blame Aunt Petunia. After all, he would probably feel the same way if he had a brother who was special, carried his family's legacy, and was dotted on by his parents while he was ignored, the ordinary child.

In fact, he _did_ know some of what Aunt Petunia had felt. Harry tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that said she was at least part the reason he felt that way. After all, it had been Lord Voldemort who had killed his parents, making him a orphan, Headmaster Dumbledore who had left him with his relatives, and his uncle and cousin who had made his life miserable after that. His aunt did not have much of a choice.

"So all thats left then is to take you to get your supplies," The Professor said decisively. "Let's go."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Harry interjected quickly. He planned on getting some questionable items from the Alley that could get him in trouble if anyone found out about them. At very least, he would be doing some things that the severe teacher would not approve of. He had been waiting to go to Diagon Alley since he was eight, and had plenty of time to think up at least a general outline of what he wanted to do (he could not go before now as his aunt did not remember where the entrance to the magical world was. It was possible that there was a charm against muggles remembering it, though he had heard that because of her lineage, most of the spells meant for muggles did not work on her, and it seemed unrealistic to have charms like those cast on the entrance in the case of muggle borns, though Harry guessed that the muggleborns could just lead their parents. The second option was that she just didn't remember a seemingly unsignificant little detail from when she was really young. Harry thought this was more likely). From what Aunt Petunia had told him, his parents had had a fair amount of money before they died. Considering his aunt's habit of greatly understating many things about the wizarding world, Harry was willing to bet his parents were very wealthy. "I can go alone, if you would give me directions."

Professor McGonagall looked as if she might argue, but eventually gave in. She gave the directions, and left reluctantly.

As soon as the professor was gone, Harry ran to the bathroom, once again glad that his cousin and uncle were out of the house. There was no telling what they would have done if they caught him running in the house- despite the fact Dudley did it all the time.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, remembering one of the many things that his aunt had told him all those years ago when he first learned about magic.

_"One thing that the fey can do is change their appearance. Small things; only your hair and eyes will you be able do instinctually- the rest you will have to use wizard spells for."_

It had been quite frustrating for Harry that he could not yet do major changes to his appearance and facial features. He had tried to use it many times to get away from Dudley but it had not worked well enough to hide him.

Harry opened his eyes and, looking into the mirror, saw the relatively same face as before. There were, however, some changes. The messy, apparently infamous, Potter hair was gone, along with the piercing green eyes that his mother Lily had been so well known for.

Everything else, while definitely not very inconspicuous, was not important. They stood out, but because Harry Potter hadn't been seen since birth, no one would know what he looked like, other than from what the things his family had been famous for. And even with that he would most likely only be recognized by his parent's old friends (Aunt Petunia was not sure how they faired, but considering what Harry had heard about the war, he would guess it was not so good).

His once messy hair was now straight, though it was still cut short and colored an inky black. His green eyes were now golden-brown (he had meant it to be a dark brown, but using fey magic always seemed to either make his green eyes glow, or turn gold- he wasn't sure why and neither was his aunt, though they agreed that it probably had something to do with the concentration of his powers).

He left the bathroom and went back down the stairs into the hallway, where Aunt Petunia was waiting at the door with her keys in her hand.

They had decided beforehand that she would drive him as near as she could to Diagon Alley and let him do the shopping, before driving him home, all before his uncle and cousin came back. His aunt was not sure how the witch and wizards would react to a muggle in Diagon Alley, as she had not come in contact with the wizarding world (or rather, she had not heard news about it from her sister) for almost a decade, and was not very eager to find out just how welcoming they were.

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**Authors Note:** I was originally going to put Harry going to Diagon Alley in _this_ chapter, but it was taking a while so I decided to update what I could now. Anyways, just in case you were wondering about the Harry-still-gets-parseltounge-and-possibly-other-powers-from-Voldemort-thing, there are no Horcruxes in this story. Probably. And yeah, I know, flashing isn't a very original name.

Next Chapter: Diagon Alley: Harry get his schools supplies and comes in real contact with the wizarding world for the first time.


	6. Diagon Alley

Chapter Six: Diagon Alley

Harry stepped into Diagon Alley, staring out in wonder at everything around him.

After being dropped off in front of the Leaky Cauldron by his aunt (he didn't want to flash in to a place that might be filled with muggles, and there were wards preventing him from apparating into Diagon Alley), he had asked the bartender how to get into the Alley. The man, Tom, had showed him the combination to he had tap into the brick wall that dominated one side of the room Tom had led him to.

He still wasn't quite sure why the entrance to the Wizarding World was a pub, unless all witch and wizards were drunks and his aunt had forgotten to mention it to him. Though Professor McGonagall had certainly not seemed like an alcoholic.

Despite this, Harry still looked around him in amazement. It was cluttered, unorganized, haphazard, and probably dangerous for small children to go through alone, lest they get trampled by the constant bustling crowd of witches and wizards.

It was also bright, cheerful, and practically dripping in magic.

Harry walked to Gringotts, the wizard bank, noticing as he did so that he was one of the only people in all of the Diagon Alley wearing muggle clothes. He would have to get robes next.

He approached the teller cautiously, acutely aware of the guards surrounding the in and outside side of the bank. No one else, however, seemed to notice the short, clever-faced goblins.

Harry wondered whether they were either just being the typically oblivious wizards they seemed to usually act like, or they were simply used to having the guards around so often that it had become normal for them to be there. He supposed that this would act in the goblin's favor if they ever started another rebellion. No one would even realize they were being attacked until it was too late (Harry found it very ironic that he was the one thinking this, all things considered). Remembering all of the goblin rebellions he'd heard about, he wondered if this was exactly how the goblins meant it to be. Well, if that was true, the goblins truly were ingenious. And the wizards truly were oblivious.

Harry couldn't help but wonder just how the Wizarding World had managed to win so many wars.

The war they won against the fey he could understand-they'd had the advantage of surprise and numbers. But the goblins, it seemed, had started every war, and were even more cunning and under-handed than the wizards. Though the Wizarding World _had_ kept the secrets of wizard-lore from them, prohibited the goblins from having wands, and generally kept them as lower-class citizens.

Not that Harry could blame the Wizarding World for making sure goblins did not have wands. He shuddered at the thought of the goblins having as much power as the wizards; the goblins were cunning and ruthless, and had every to be vengeful if they ever came in power. They would be unstoppable.

"Excuse me sir," Harry said in his politest voice- it would not do to have a goblin angry at him, and despite his occasional doubts about it, Harry had the natural fey charm. "Could I visit my vault?"

"Do you have your key?" The goblin did not look up from the papers on his desk, but spoke in a no-nonsense sort of voice.

"No," Harry was starting to have a slight sinking feeling in his stomach, but did not let it show, and kept his voice polite. "I don't know where my key is. It's my parents vault, you see, but they died when I was young so I don't know who currently has it. I was hoping you could do a blood test and give me a copy." He sincerely hoped that the Wizarding World actually _had_ blood tests.

The goblin finally looked up from his papers, annoyance on his sharp features, and called for another goblin.

The other goblin, after quickly conversing with the goblin at the desk in hushed tones, led him down a hallway, made of the same polished marble that the main room had been in. He was brought into a considerably smaller room, where he was told to stay put and not move. The goblin left. He waited for a few moments before the goblin came back, this time carrying a piece of parchment and a surprisingly modern-looking sort of plastic tray that Harry would expect to find it a muggle hospital; the ones the doctors sometimes used to carry things like shots. Harry suddenly got a bad feeling.

He looked into the tray to find a relatively small knife. He was told to stick his hand out, which he did apprehensively. Almost before he knew it, the goblin had pricked his finger, and placed the blood from it on the piece of parchment.

Harry knew that it was very efficient, and that if he were human, he might not have seen what happened at all, but could not help but feeling that if the goblins could have the trays that muggle doctors had, they could have the other equipment too (like things that were certainly _not_ daggers). And he didn't really like the idea of someone he did not know or trust having his blood.

The goblin, who Harry realized had been looking at the parchment with his blood in it the whole time during his short mental rant, looked back at Harry, his expression unreadable.

"Follow me," He said briskly.

Harry, hoping that he was leaving was because the goblin had gotten confirmation of his identity rather than for a far worse reason, followed him and was greatly relieved when the marble of the previous halls was replaced with the rough, cavern-like walls he'd been expecting. There was a cart in the middle, attached to some sort of rail system. Harry grinned internally. Apparently, while his mother had hated the carts with their sharp turns and break-neck speeds falls, his adventurous father had loved them. He had a feeling he knew which parent he would take after in this particular thing.

At few minutes later, a rather green (metaphorically- he did not get green, his perfect completion would not allow it), but nonetheless exhilarated Harry stumbled out of the cart behind a smirking goblin.

The goblin gathered the lamp from the cart, and used Harry's new key to open the vault door.

For the second time that day, Harry stared in awe at the sight before him. Which was surprising really- he was usually much more composed than this.

He wasn't sure of how much a coin was worth in the Wizarding World, but he was pretty sure that he was filthy rich. In the large room, there were huge, almost ceiling-high piles of gold coins, and slightly smaller piles of silver and bronze coins.

Harry looked at the goblin questioningly, who understood and explained shortly, "The gold coins are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. Twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."

Harry wondered about the seemingly random numbers, before getting out the internally expanded money pouch that he had been given before- for a 'small' fee, of course. He grabbed a few fistfuls of Galleons, and a smaller number of Knuts and Sickles for safe measure; he still wasn't sure how much they were worth, and was not keen on testing the goblin's patience by asking another question.

He turned back to the goblin and said, "Ready to go."

~~~MotF~~~

Harry decided to get his clothes first. After spending his whole life wearing nothing but hand-me-downs (excluding his underwear, thank Merlin), he wanted to get his own clothes. He also wanted to look as normal as possible, as soon as possible.

As he entered the clothing store, a kind, if harried, looking lady came up to him, asking, "Hogwarts, dear?" before he got the chance to speak.

"Yes," Harry answered politely. "I'm going into my first year, so I was wondering if I could get the school uniform?

"I would also like some casual robes- things I could wear every day. Make most of them in silk or the best materials you have, and a few others in regular cotton, please," Harry continued to instruct as the lady, apparently Madam Malkin, immediately set forth to taking his measurements.

She nodded cheerily, not seeming the least put off by being ordered around by someone less than half her age.

Harry assumed that it was because she was used to it. From what he could tell, the Wizarding World, despite not having royals, were still mostly ruled by the wealthy and influential old pureblood families, which meant she would have the children of aristocrats ordering her around all the time.

Or she could just be excited about all of the undoubtedly expensive things he was a buying.

After Harry left the shop, with a promise to come back a few hours later to pick the clothes up, he went to the apothecary. There he got the traditional first year potions kit, along with a few extra ingredients that he found interesting or were suggested to him by one of the knowledgeable employees that he had charmed into helping him.

Next, Harry looked around in various shops, occasionally buying things that he needed for Hogwarts like a telescope and cauldron, systematically checking things off of his Hogwarts list as he found them. Soon, one of the only things left was to get his wand.

Harry, after stopping off at Madam Malkins to get the clothes he had ordered (noticing as he did so that the Hogwarts uniform apparently included the dragon hide gloves that he was required to buy for Herbology), went to Ollivander's wand shop.

He entered the seemingly empty store cautiously, noticing as he did so that it was rather small and cramped, and filled with what seemed to be hundreds of small, dusty rectangular boxes that held the wands.

"Hello?" He called softly. "Is anybody here?"

Harry sensed a movement behind him, and turned around. A moment later heard a vaguely surprised voice say,

"Muggleborn?"

"No," Harry hoped that the wandmaker was as neutral as his aunt had said. He didn't want to reveal who he was, but his aunt had been firm in saying that it was essential to getting a proper wand.

"Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you." He let his disguise drop for a moment, before quickly reasserting it.

"Mr. Potter, a pleasure to finally meet you at last. You do look quite a bit like your parents." He wisely didn't ask why Harry obviously didn't want to be seen as himself.

What followed next was Harry once again being measured everywhere. This time, however, he noticed it was not done by hand but by magic- and strange magic at that. What the measurements of his nostrils that had to do with the wand he got, he hadn't a clue, but he was willing to play along if it meant he would get finally get one.

Unfortunately, not even the measurement of his nostril seemed to help. He must have gone through half the store trying to find his wand- often with disastrous results.

But finally, Ollivander, who seemed to get more and more excited after each failed wand, got out one last box and said, in a almost reverent whisper, "Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple. Very powerful."

Harry waved the wand, and it gave him a warm, glowing feeling before shooting a rainbow of sparks into the air in front of him.

"Oh, bravo!" The wandmaker said excitedly, apparently oblivious to the smoke coming from his sleave, where some of the sparks had hit his robes. He gave Harry a speculative look. "Curious, very curious."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, still staring at the slowly growing flame. "But your clothes just-"

"That you should be destined for this wand, why, when it's brother gave you this scar," Ollivander interrupted in an ominous voice, parting Harry's hair with his wand and pointing to the unblemished skin where his infamous scar should be. It had been quite difficult to remove his Mark with fey magic, but Harry had, with much practice, managed it.

The fire spread up his arm.

"Um, right." Harry said, and ran out as fast as he could.

Once he was far away from the store, he walked to his next stop deep in thought, wondering what having Voldemort's brother wand meant. His mind went through several possibilities: it could mean that he would become just like Voldemort, which he did not think this was very likely. It could also just mean that his destiny was very closely intertwined with the Dark Lord- definitely possible. Harry didn't doubt it to be true, no matter how much he wished it wasn't. Especially with the prophecy hanging over his head.

Or, it could simply be a random, ironic twist of fate; he did not doubt this either-he certainly had enough irony in his life. Like how he, a faerie, was supposed to be the Wizarding Worlds savior.

But soon Harry's thoughts lightened, and his green eyes gained a anticipatory glint to them; he could finally go to where had been waiting to ever since he learned about magic.

He entered the book shop, and felt a rather evil grin come upon his face.

~~~MotF~~~

As soon as she saw Harry's uncle, Aunt Petunia gave a brilliant smile and said in an exited voice,

"Wonderful news, Vernon! Do you remember when you said you were wishing that Harry could join that school? St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys? Well I applied and he was accepted! He'll gone for the whole year! Though we'll probably still have to deal with him over the summer. Anyways," She continued, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I thought it would be a nice surprise and didn't want you to be disappointed if he didn't get in."

Harry started. He had forgotten that they still needed to think of an excuse for why he would be gone for most of the year. He wasn't entirely pleased with the one his aunt had come up with, but knew better than to say anything.

Uncle Vernon accepted the lie with a disgusted look to his nephew and happy look to his wife. Harry wasn't sure if what his aunt said was how students at St. Brutus's really got there (he was pretty sure they had to be ordered by court), but doubted his uncle was going to check.

And Harry didn't care anymore, either. He was going to Hogwarts!

* * *

**Authors Note:** Just in case anyone cares, I'll be posting how far I am into the next chapters on my profile. Next chapter will be:

Chapter Seven: Journey to Hogwarts: Harry takes his next step to joining the Wizarding World as he finally arrives at Hogwarts.


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